


Cotton//Candy

by Emeka



Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Consent Issues, Hallucinations, Implied Oral Sex, M/M, Starvation, no hard feelings i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeka/pseuds/Emeka
Summary: Hajime's starvation gets the better of him.





	Cotton//Candy

Hajime Hinata is 99% of the way to knowing this is how he's going to die.

It's the insistence of the thought (though he's too starved for it to be even that--more like a half-baked instinct) that makes him leave his room. If he's going to die, can he please at least not die alone? That'd be preferable.

It does leave the question of who he's going to expend this last bit of energy on. But he touches the lump in his pocket, where he still keeps that broken piece, and his feet start on their own. 

Tries, anyway, as it takes a few. His homing system, such as it is, does little to keep him from almost drunkenly bumping into walls and forgetting whether he's going up the stairs or down.

Eventually he ends up in front of the door he wants. Ah, he'd know those cute pink cheeks anywhere... right?

But opening the door is like opening the door to the witch's gingerbread house.

He sees something unbearably sweet, an amalgamation of every childhood candy on a cotton candy form. Thoughts of dying leave his mind; what he sees is so real he can smell it, and it makes his stomach clench and ache. What was he worried about? Eating? That's no problem now, right?

It says something, but he doesn't hear. Meaningless buzz goes right through his noisy brain. When did his spit get so thick? It's one gumdrop eye sickly shines with it's icing of glazed sugar.

He tries to swallow down as he approaches, one foot after the other, disregarding anything else. It pushes back at him but it's cotton after all, and can't (doesn't? won't?) push that hard. He backs it up easily against the wall and digs his fingers in.

It feels like silk floss, gives as easily. He feels something, a thrumming under his fingers, where they touch the floss. His impulse is to squeeze it in and devour it up, but that would be messy. 

So Hajime kisses and licks wherever his face can reach, feels it melt and dissolve into sugar under his tongue, pink turning to red. It moves against him, maybe even wanting to be eaten, and the taste of mint fills his mouth. It's startling in comparison to the sweet but if he thinks of it like gum, that's fine too. He nibbles a little, is nibbled in return, and decides he doesn't like _that_. Candy shouldn't be trying to eat him back.

He sucks lower and lower, where the cotton is hopefully less carnivorous, and if possible it tastes even tenderer here. So sweet and soft, so his alone, sweetening his thickening saliva that he feels plastering his chin with melty sugar. The scent is cloying.

It touches his hair, grabs on and pulls, and he'd be mad if he wasn't so busy with his mouth. He shouldn't be stuffing himself with all these empty calories but it tastes so good and he wants to suck until he's full. Just as his mouth starts to ache he finally reaches the center and an outpouring of condensed milk squirts into his mouth. It goes down smooth, like a balm for his throat.

He feels drained and contented after it's all down. It should be the opposite with so much sugar, but he doesn't even have the energy to move. Luckily his slobbery face aside, where he is is so soft and comfortable. He just leans in and closes his eyes. Sleep comes almost instantly.

The trial comes and goes. Hajime's memory of a few nights before is hazy, though he remembers the urge that drove him from his room then waking up on the floor of Fuyuhiko's room with a blanket pulled over him. This kind of half-assed comforting while dying... he got up, blanket pulled over his shoulders, and fell into Fuyuhiko's bed with him amidst the defensive squawking he's gotten used to by that point. There was some shoving, but they're both too exhausted to keep it up.

If they're going to die, it should at least be together. Fuyuhiko's body heat felt so thin. He had to warm him up.

They settled eventually against each other, Fuyuhiko's chest against his rib cage, hair bristling his chin. "'bout last night," he mumbled, and even his breath felt insubstantial.

"What about it?" Hajime asked, pulling back a little just to look at him, and was relieved that at least his complexion looked healthy and pink.

"You don't remember," Fuyuhiko flatly stated, though his face only grew pinker. "I thought you were out of it, you stupid bastard." His face pressed back against his collarbone, and Hajime was too tired to make anything out of it. It was probably nothing at all except by Fuyuhiko's weird standards, and the 'don't fucking mess with me' spoken against his skin was only obligatory.


End file.
